Becoming Daddy_A Billionaire's Baby Romance

by R. R. Banks

  The song ended, and we walked hand-in-hand off of the dancefloor and toward the microphone at the far end of the room.

  “Is anyone out there still awake?” I asked.

  A few of the guests laughed and I heard a distinct bellow from somewhere in one of the lounge areas.

  “Good to hear, Bubba Ray,” I said. “I just wanted to say thank you so much to every one of you who joined Rue and me here to celebrate our wedding. We can’t think of anything more important than having the people we care about with us as we start this new chapter in our lives. There’s so much more that I could say, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a couple of you take out eye masks and pillows so I’m going to go ahead and wrap it up. Thank you again. Drive safely and have a good day’s sleep!”

  Our guests rushed outside clutching the tiny bottles that had been handed out and as Rue and I rushed out a sea of bubbles tumbled down around us. She squealed with glee as she leapt into the back of our limo, the one white vehicle among the fleet that I had hired to bring everyone from the Hollow to the wedding, and I laughed as I jumped in after her. I closed the door and the limo took off, heading toward the hotel where we would spend the next two days before leaving on our honeymoon, with Clementine in tow.

  “I think that Clementine deserves to have a little brother,” I said, reaching out to grab hold of Rue and sweep her over so she lay across my lap, her arms looped around my neck.

  “Oh, really?” she asked.

  I nodded, biting my lip.

  “Only this time, we’re doing it the old-fashioned way.”

  She smiled, and I gathered her to me, dipping my head to give her the first of the rest of a lifetime of kisses.

  THE END

  A Note from the Author

  Thank you for reading Becoming Daddy . I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, may I ask you to please write a review? I would really appreciate it and be forever grateful. Reviews are very important and allow me to keep writing the books that you love to read .

  With Thanksgiving coming up, I want to thank you!

  Included on the next page is a special treat just for you. Holiday Heat - An EXCLUSIVE romance story that’s never been published and written for the holidays to say thank you for your support.

  Thank you for reading my books and letting me serve you doing what I love!

  R.R. Banks

  P.S. Exclusive - Holiday Heat , next page! ;)

  EXCLUSIVE – Holiday Heat (Never Published)

  Chapter One

  Josh

  “I just can’t think about Christmas when my ass cheeks are sweating and sticking to a plastic chair.”

  I rolled my head to the side to look at Willa.

  “Always the delicate snowflake,” Alvin said from my other side.

  I tried not to laugh, knowing that if I did, my girlfriend would never let me hear the end of it.

  My fiancée. Shit.

  “Shut up,” Willa snapped. “It’s too fucking hot to deal with you too.”

  Willa Jennings Sommers in all her glory.

  She adjusted her position on the poolside chaise lounge again, seeming to be trying to subtly peel said ass cheeks from the plastic slats that held her up. Cultivated hands adjusted oversized dark sunglasses over a face that was in what women in her social circle saw as the very narrow window between adolescence and plastic surgery, and thin, nude-painted lips created a tight line of derision as she reclined back and allowed the sun to further bake her into privileged oblivion.

  “Will the two of you please try to show at least a modicum of decorum?”

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw a man who could only be described as ‘stately’ step through the glass doors onto the deck and glare at his children. Wilton Jennings Sommers III. My future father-in-law and the man who was so invested in having a firstborn son to carry his name that he could hardly bear to feminize her name at all when the first child emerged a girl. It was all he could do not to add “IV” to her birth certificate. They liked to joke that at least that took the pressure off of me since my engagement came along with a built-in name for my first son. I didn’t find that all quite as amusing as they did. Though an arranged child seemed to fit perfectly with an arranged marriage, somehow it didn’t sit well with me.

  I looked at Willa again, trying to remember when we first met. The reality was that we had known each other our entire lives. I was a few years older than her, so I knew that there was a time when I didn’t know her, a time when my life was just bubbling along smoothly until she showed up and threw everything into a tailspin. Of course, neither of us knew it then. Neither of us would have been aware that first time that I stared down at her in her infant state, whenever that was, that just a couple of decades later we would end up fed into an engagement with each other, convinced that we loved each other and that this was all on our own terms. It wasn’t that I hated her. That wasn’t the problem. There was more of a sense of indifference toward her. I wasn’t particularly fond of her, but I knew plenty of couples that had been married for years who didn’t like each other at all and didn’t seem compelled to divorce and re-evaluate their lives, so I figured that being able to look at her and not recoil was actually a bonus for us. I would worry about developing other feelings for her when we got closer to the wedding.

  For now, all of my energy needed to go into planning for Thanksgiving and Black Friday, the entire reason for this festive little gathering beside the pool at my future-in-laws’ island vacation home. This was the big-time for our respective family businesses, the businesses that were the impetus behind Willa and my future union. Each family owned a powerful retail chain that had started as simply small general stores generations ago and then grew and made their way across the country so that they dominated the shopping market. Of course, this wasn’t enough for the families. Our fathers had seen in us the future empire that they could build. Our marriage would mean merging of assets and exponentially more power and wealth. I had nothing against the concept of power and wealth, but recently it had been losing some of its sparkle as I spent more time with Willa and Alvin and realized that in a matter of months I would be trading my independence for the future that my parents always envisioned for me.

  “Who’s going to hear us?” Alvin asked, holding out his arms as if to encompass the empty stretch of beach in front of the house. “The staff? I think they’re used to us.”

  “That doesn’t give you an excuse to behave this way.”

  Wilton sat down at the round glass table behind us, expecting us to turn around to face him. That was his way, a means of his control over those around him. It didn’t matter where we were or what we were doing, if he wanted us to do something his way, he would have a subtle, quiet way of ensuring that it happened. Of all of the Sommers family, Wilton was the one I felt the closest to. He was demanding and stern, but there was a sense of compassion and even humor in him that came out occasionally that I attached to and played off of whenever possible. It was remembering the extremely close, lifelong relationship that he had had with my father that kept me going when there were times that I considered just stepping back and refusing to go along with it. He wanted so much for me, and I felt that I owed it to him to accomplish everything that I could to honor the hard work that he had done to achieve all that he had, and to pursue the dreams that he had for me.

  “Daddy, do we really need to have this meeting now?” Willa said, employing her best manipulative voice. “It’s such a pretty day and there’s so much more that we could be doing.”

  “She’s right, Dad,” Alvin added. “She’s only flipped over twice all day. She still has so much more toasting to do. You can’t possibly expect her to work when she isn’t the right shade of impending skin cancer.”

  I fully expected Willa to pick up a handful of the ice that she had in a bucket beside her and throw it at her brother, but she miraculously restrained herself. I, too, restrained myself rather than letting out the sigh that I wanted to and instead clim
bed off of my own chaise and joined Wilton at his table. I took the glass pitcher of orange juice from the center of the table and poured a glass. It was sweet and sharp against my tongue, seeming to cut through the heavy heat that was already pressing down on the island even though it was still early in the day.

  “I’ve already had enough of both of you,” Wilton said. “Stop acting like children and focus on the reason that we are here. This isn’t a vacation. I brought you here so that we were separated from other distractions and could really focus on our holiday season approach. Do you realize that our competitors have already been planning for weeks?”

  “What competitors?” Willa asked, finally dragging herself off of the chair and coming over to the table. “No one can touch us in sales. They never have.”

  She dropped down onto my lap and I looped an arm around her hips almost automatically. Willa had been much more malleable when it came to our relationship. It’s not that I thought that she loved me any more than I loved her, or even that she believed that one day we would fall in love with each other the way that I had been told that we would. Instead, I think that when she looked at me she saw a wedding and all of the attention that she was going to get as a bride and then as a newlywed. She wasn’t thinking beyond the sparkles, gown, and champagne, or the even greater luxury and power than she already had to what married life would really be like.

  “It’s that attitude that causes businesses to go under,” Wilton said. “If you don’t believe that you have any competition, you stop trying, and that’s when you stop reaching higher levels of success. We might have been the two chains on top for a long time now, but we aren’t the only ones who have noticed that. The other retailers have certainly noticed, and they are gunning for us. They are putting everything they can into preparing for the holiday season and are determined that they are going to be able to overcome us in sales this year. I have seen some of the plans. There are even leaked sale pages. If we don’t put the time and effort into it that we should, this could be the season that we begin to lose the success that our families have built.” He turned to look at me. “Josh, you understand the importance of this, don’t you?”

  “Of course, I do,” I said. “Things have changed so much even since my father was alive and designing campaigns. He had visions for the store, but I don’t know if his approaches would have succeeded in today’s market. We can’t just sit around and expect that what’s worked in the past is going to work into the future, especially if we want both businesses to succeed together.”

  I felt like I sounded like I should be standing at a podium in front of a boardroom full of appropriately bored people trying to give them a pep talk as was expected of my position as head of the company my family had built. By the time that my father died the company was already so completely intertwined with that of the Sommer’s family that they barely seemed like separate entities, and when Willa and I get married, they will officially be merged into one massive retail powerhouse. That is, of course, if either company made it through the gauntlet of commercialism that is the holiday shopping season without experiencing the epic losses that had cost many of our competitors their very existence in the last several years. Some of them had once been pillars of the retail industry, powerful stores that drew in shoppers by the droves. Over the years, however, they refused to change along with the times and soon they crumbled, dissolving away into the same shopping ephemera as general stores and the milkman.

  “That’s exactly why I’ve brought you all out here this week,” Wilton said, the hint of a smile on his face as he looked at me as if he was ignoring Alvin’s existence and gazing at the son he never had. “This is the one vacation that we will have this summer.”

  “But…”, Willa started to protest.

  Wilton held up a hand to silence her, shaking his head as he did.

  “No arguments. I am very serious about this. I have spent a considerable amount of time in the last several months looking over the reports from last year’s holiday season and projections for this year. I’m not pleased with what I have seen.”

  “What have you seen?” Alvin asked.

  Wilton’s ominous tone had gotten the attention of his children, both of whom were now leaning toward him, horrified by even the subtle suggestion that they might not have the money that they were both not only accustomed to, but obsessed with. I knew that the patriarch was enhancing the drama of the situation a touch more than might have been necessary just so that he could get this reaction. He wanted them to be invested, to understand that they were a part of something that was bigger than just the luxuries that the business provided. Wilton was still vibrant and active, but I knew that he was becoming more and more aware of his years, years that had long-since turned his hair silver and reminded him constantly of the fact that he waited until later in life to start his family because of his devotion to his family business. This was making him think about what was going to happen when he was no longer around to control the business and who was going to step into his place.

  I also knew that the financial circumstances of both businesses were far from shaky. Of course, there was always room for improvement no matter how successful you were, and it was important to constantly seek out the next thing that was going to keep the stores relevant. Wilton’s dark tone and serious expression, however, would have made anyone looking into the situation think that we were teetering on the edge of financial solvency and one false move could cause us to tumble into ruin. The truth was that both families had more money than we ever had, and the profits of the holiday season would just be gravy. He wasn’t thinking about financial stability. He was thinking about the future.

  “What I’ve seen is businesses that are doing everything they can to bulk up their holiday season sales and funnel business away from our stores. They’ve already been planning for some time, so now we need to not only catch up, but go beyond them. Enjoy your vacation, because as soon as we get home, we’re buckling down and putting in the work that we need to do to keep us ahead of them going into next year as well.” He looked pointedly at Willa and then Alvin, and then back at Willa. “ All of us will be putting in the work.”

  Though he was focusing more of his stare at Willa, the message was definitely directed more at Alvin. Though Willa was known for her mastery of whining when she wanted to relax, when she was in the office, she was fierce and focused. Alvin, on the other hand, had never been one to participate in the work that would create the rewards he so enjoyed reaping.

  “Just think,” Willa said, turning to wrap her arms around me and look down into my face. “One day, all of this will be ours and we’ll be the ones telling other people what to do.”

  She leaned down and kissed me. I searched for the passion in that kiss. I searched for feeling that I hoped was somewhere hidden in the connection. I knew that the earliest days of our relationship had been fun and exciting. I could remember the times that we spent together when we first started feeling like adults and experiencing what it was like to step out of the direct sight of our parents. They were still watching, of course. That was just part of being in the circles where our families existed. People didn’t make any moves without everyone around them knowing, so parents tended to bring the concept of helicopter parenting to a new level to make sure that the ever-important concept of reputation was preserved. The only time when that hovering lessened even somewhat was when two appropriate offspring were paired off and gliding on toward marriage. As soon as Willa and I announced our engagement, which effectively came at the same time we started dating, we were given more slack on our leashes and allowed to exist a little more as individuals rather than just within our parents’ realm.

  Those days seemed far away now. I hoped that we’d find them again. Until then, I would focus on the goals at hand and keep moving forward. I didn’t really have much choice.

  Chapter Two

  Cristina

  The light was on at the end of the hallway just as it ha
d been every night for the last few weeks. I sighed as I pulled my cart into one of the darkened offices and went to work tidying it. As usual, there wasn’t much to do in this or any of the other offices along this corridor. The people who worked in them during the day were nothing if not boring as hell, and that generally translated to me having to empty a trash can that might contain a few crumpled pieces of paper and some pencil shavings.

  Sometimes I knew that things had gotten crazy in the office during business hours when I discovered a Styrofoam soup container in the trash. That meant that the person had been so wrapped up in their work that they couldn’t even bring themselves to leave the office to go out of the building, or even down the stairs, to have lunch and instead relented to subsisting on dehydrated noodles and indeterminate herbs and vegetable particles miraculously brought back to life by water they poured from their in-office coffeemaker. These were the times when the fleeting idea of starting an office catering business flittered through my mind. It would be pretty much the same thing that I did now, only I would be in the office during the day and instead of my cart containing cleaning supplies and extra trash bags it would have actual food that was worth eating. I could be like that lady on the train in the wizard movie, visiting each of the offices like the little compartments and asking if they wanted anything off the cart.

  Would that mean that I would need to adopt a whole new accent? I’m sure that the people here would just love that. Maybe they wouldn’t mind so much, though, if they got to eat homecooked food for lunch rather than Styro-sludge.